


Song of the Sea

by IllestRin



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Beta Read, Canon Typical Violence, Case Fic, M/M, Rating will go up, Selkies, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, That's right you fucking heard me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllestRin/pseuds/IllestRin
Summary: The Milton's come from a long line of Selkies, beings with the ability to live on land or in water. As long as they keep their seal pelt safe and secure to make the change.Malcolm gets called to a crime scene and discovers one of his own brutally murdered.Can he keep his secret safe?
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First things first! Thank you bestie [Hannah_BWTM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_BWTM/works) for agreeing to beta this. I love you now and forever. 🥰 
> 
> So I had planned to write a soulmate fic and then i apparently started writing a selkie fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ gotta go where the inspiration is, right? 
> 
> While writing this I discovered that there is an animated movie called Song of the Sea about a selkie and I hope I get to watch it before I finish this fic. There is an amazing song from that movie that I have fallen in love with that you can listen to [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/2v5xTF7iF0IH3nTLSZssbf?si=rKoWzcnOTzmLa4C_3MfZ5Q)
> 
> The title of this fic is borrowed from that song/movie.

_"Your pelt is your most prized possession, Malcolm. Keep it safe. Always."_

Malcolm knew he wasn't like his peers from a very young age. 

For one, Malcolm is pretty sure most others couldn't don a seal skin and go swimming in the New York Harbor with their families. 

Who would believe that the Milton family of New York City fame were all a long line of selkie descendants? 

Malcolm's life was perfect. 

Until it wasn't. 

Martin Whitly committed one last crime before he went to prison for serial murder: he stole his wife's pelt. When the net had started to close in around him he secreted away his wife's most precious possession. 

And in the years following, neither she nor her children were able to find it. 

_"Don't let anyone know, Malcolm. I don't want you to lose your freedom. Don't give up your pelt to anyone. Don't let anyone have that power over you."_

Malcolm listened to his mother growing up, and understood her fear. She could no longer go into the water with him and Ainsley. It broke his heart to see the look of longing on his Mother's face from the shore, as she sat down delicately on a large rock to watch over her children as they slipped on their grey seal skin pelts. 

"Make sure to look after your sister, darling!" Jessica called out to Malcolm every time. It was a responsibility he took seriously. 

Malcolm spent his adolescence much the same way. Usually it was just the three of them on these excursions. Modern society requires that their kind keep a low profile. Every few years the local selkie families would gather on the coast for a reunion, and Malcolm always enjoyed those. The last time he went before going to college his mother stayed home, declaring him old enough to watch Ainsley by himself. 

Malcolm knew the real reason was that the pain of not being able to don her pelt and join with her friends and family was beginning to be too much to bear. 

He visited his father in prison only once, when he was in his late teens. To plead for the Surgeon to give up where he hid his mother's pelt, to give their family that last bit of closure. To give his Mother her freedom back. 

Martin Whitly had smiled at his son, the elder man charming on the surface, not appearing the fearsome serial killer he truly was. 

_"You'll never find it, Malcolm."_

Malcolm had turned around and walked out those doors, not looking back at his father. 

Malcolm was determined not to let Martin Whitly win.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Hannah is the actual best. 😘 
> 
> Thank you so much for the beta!

Malcolm changes his name to distance himself from his father, goes to college, joins the FBI. 

He does pretty well for himself until he is fired from the FBI. His mother was ecstatic when she learned he would be moving home. 

She was less ecstatic when she learned that he started working for the NYPD. 

Malcolm knew it was just because she was worried about him, but he could take care of himself. He’d been doing it for a very long time. 

Plus, there was Gil. 

After Gil arrested The Surgeon all those years ago they kept in touch. Gil was friendly with Malcolm's entire family, though he had no clue about the Milton family secret. And that was how Malcolm planned to keep it. 

Malcolm is relaxing at home in his loft one morning. Slowly depressing the plunger on his French press, he enjoys the aroma of quality beans before pouring a cup. Sunshine is tweeting softly from the other side of the loft in her cage. 

To Malcolm, it is an idyllic morning. 

Taking a slow sip of the piping hot coffee Malcolm sorts through the mail sitting on the island. A postcard catches his attention and he pulls it out to examine it closer. 

The picture is of a beach. 

There is no message of travels by a distant friend, just an address and a date. A month from now. 

Malcolm sets it aside and picks up his phone to call Ainsley.

"It's a little early to be hearing from you, big bro." Ainsley greets as soon as she answers the call. 

"I was just calling to see if you got this year's Gathering postcard yet?" Malcolm picks the postcard back up to look at the information again. It was probably sent by the Higgins matriarch, looking at the neat script. 

"No, not yet. Did you get yours? Where is it this year?" Malcolm can hear the excitement in her voice. 

"A private beach, I think. Next month. Check your mail later." Malcolm sets it aside from the rest of his mail, he’ll put up on the fridge later. 

"So what else is new with you, Malcolm? Got any hot goss for your favorite sister?" 

Malcolm's face scrunches up. "I cannot believe you just said 'hot goss.' How old are you? And no, I have no 'hot goss' for you, Ainsley."

He can hear Ainsley laughing through the line and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. "Let me know when you get your postcard so we can make plans."

"You don't think we might be able to convince Mom to go with us this time?" 

Malcolm holds in a sigh as his heart aches at the thought. "Ainsley, you know it'll just upset her to bring it up." 

"I know, I just miss going with her." 

"I do too, Ains." 

The call doesn't last much longer than that. Malcolm wishes his sister well and hangs up, unable to completely ignore the subtle melancholy the call brought them both. 

Malcolm picks up the postcard and looks it over once more. 

Another year. Another reunion. 

Another Gathering without his mother going. 

Malcolm's heart just _aches_ for her. 

Malcolm doesn't get to sit with his sadness for long before his phone rings. 

"You up for a murder today, kid?" Gil skips over the usual pleasantries. 

Gil knows that Malcolm loves to help out when he can. 

"Of course. Where's it at, I can order a car." 

Gil gives him the address and Malcolm sets about setting up a car service. 

There will be time to be sad later. Right now Malcolm has a job to do.  


𓇼•𓇼•𓇼

  
Malcolm meets Dani outside of a modest sized unattached house a short drive from the city. The lawn is manicured, the houses along the street look nearly the same. A picture perfect suburb.

The only sign that a crime had been committed in this home was the police cars lining the street in front of the house, and the bright yellow CAUTION police tape marking the perimeter. 

"So this crime scene isn't more vicious than our usual sickos, but it is…. Odd." Dani holds up the yellow crime scene tape so Malcolm can step under it. 

That comment stopped him short. "Odd how?" 

"I think the victim might have been a poacher of some kind. You'll just have to see for yourself. Gil's already in there with Edrisa." 

Malcolm follows Dani into the entryway, ignoring the handful of officers standing around cataloging the victim's possessions. Malcolm keeps an eye out, trying to see if anything was out of place to a Profiler's point of view. He nods to JT as he walks by, the other detective talking to one of the uniformed officers in the living room. Malcolm gets a small wave in reply, and JT continues his conversation. 

Dani and Malcolm walk through the kitchen, Malcolm struggles to find a single thing out of place. A plate of eggs sitting on the small breakfast nook were untouched. "Where is the victim?"

"Oh, bedroom. It's at the back of the house." Dani points towards the back hallway. "Boss is waiting for you." She says before she walks over to join JT's conversation. 

Malcolm walks in the direction Dani pointed him in and meets Gil at the entrance of a bedroom. The hall only contained 3 doors. The open bedroom door, an open bathroom door, and another that remained closed. Malcolm figured that room probably wasn't important at this point in the investigation. 

"So what's the story, Gil?" 

Malcolm looks up at Gil, his oldest friend, waiting. 

"Victim's name is Alisha Lee. When she failed to report for work today her boss became concerned and dispatch sent a unit to do a welfare check. Neighbors had a spare key and permission to enter the residence, then the officers discovered her and called in Major Crimes." Gil opened the bedroom door wider, giving Malcolm an unobstructed view of the crime scene. 

_The name sounds vaguely familiar…_

The victim, Alisha Lee, is lying face up on her bed, completely disrobed. Edrisa stands on the far side of the bed hovering over her charge, doing her preliminary examination of the victim. The victim which appears to have suffered multiple stab wounds to her torso. There was blood covering most of the sheets, as well as cast off blood splatter on the ceiling, indicating she was likely killed in bed, and not just bled out here. It was a vicious killing. 

"Mr. Bright! So glad you could join us." Edrisa greets Malcolm as he takes a step into the room.

Looking up to respond to Edrisa, Malcolm glances at the back wall of Alisha's room. 

A seal skin pelt, haphazardly nailed into the wall. 

A message written in the victim's own blood. 

**MONSTER.**

Malcolm feels like all of the air has been sucked from the room; a wave of nausea hits like he has never felt. Malcolm knows he is about to be violently ill and scrambles the several feet to the next room and drops to his knees in front of the toilet, throwing open the lid, barely having time before this morning's coffee and toast make a reappearance. 

Malcolm can feel a gentle hand rubbing against his upper back as the next wave of nausea hits and he gags again. There isn't much more to expel, and Malcolm can feel bile rising in his throat. 

"Malcolm…" He hears Gil sigh behind him, he continues to rub his back while Malcolm stays hunched over the toilet. "What just happened?" 

A soft knock on the bathroom door saves Malcolm from needing to reply, which Gil was kind enough to close after them. 

"Is everything ok in there?" It's Dani. Malcolm can hear concern lacing the question. She must have seen his mad scramble for the bathroom. 

"Just give us a few minutes, Powell." Gil offers in reply. 

Malcolm takes slow, deep, calming breaths. Anything to keep the nausea at bay. 

There is no way Malcolm just saw what he did. 

_There is no fucking way._

Malcolm did not just see a pelt of one of his own kind nailed to the wall at a crime scene. Like the killer knew who she was, knew what she was. 

"I'm sorry, Gil. Just give me a second. It must have been something I ate." A lie. But Malcolm cannot tell Gil the truth. 

"Are you sure you aren't coming down with something? I can have someone drive you back to your loft." Gil's hand rubs at the back of his neck, the smooth motion comforting in this moment of panic. 

Malcolm swallows back the bit of bile he can still feel, and closes the toilet lid, flushing away the evidence of his panic attack. 

Malcolm rises shakily to his feet, feeling like a newborn pup. Gil drops his hand from the back of Malcolm's neck, and Malcolm tries not to mourn the loss. 

"I'll be alright. I want to help." Malcolm hates how scratchy his voice sounds, but that's to be expected. He quickly rinses his mouth out in the sink. There is little he can do without a toothbrush for now. 

Malcolm turns to look at Gil, his heart grips in his chest at the look of worry gracing the older man's face. Malcolm tries to find a smile, to put Gil at ease. He's not entirely sure he's successful when Gil's brows furrow further. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Gil raises a hand like he wants to touch Malcolm again, before dropping it by his side. 

Malcolm nods. "I think I'm ready to head back out." 

_Malcolm hopes he's ready._

Malcolm has a job to do. 

He grips the doorknob, takes one last deep breath to steel himself, and opens the door. 

Stepping out into the hallway he finds Dani waiting for them, worry evident in the look she gives him. She thankfully holds back from commenting, and he offers her a small smile. 

Malcolm exits the bathroom and turns towards the bedroom, puts one foot in front of the other and walks into hell. 

Malcolm forcibly swallows back the bile he can feel rising when he sees the pelt again. 

Malcolm has seen a wide variety of senseless murders carried out in different ways throughout his career, but this feels _personal._

There is a very good chance he has met the victim before. And there is an extremely good chance that she was close to one of the local families. 

How is Malcolm going to solve this murder without revealing his secret?

Edrisa is rambling off the facts about what she has discovered in her preliminary examination, but Malcolm is hardly paying attention. 

"Hey, Gil. Found this weird postcard in her mail." JT walks into the bedroom holding a familiar rectangular piece of cardstock. Malcolm can see the beach as the detective waves it for Gil. 

Malcolm's heart drops. 

_The Gathering._

"There's just a date and an address. No return address or name to tell us who sent it. Seems kind of ominous, doesn't it?" JT explains to Gil. 

This isn't new information to Malcolm.

The very same postcard is sitting on his kitchen island, waiting to be attached to his fridge. 

Malcolm needs to solve this murder quickly to prevent another from occurring. To protect against someone showing up to The Gathering _uninvited._

JT hands the postcard off to an officer to bag it for evidence, and gives Malcolm a weird look. "You alright, man?" 

Malcolm tries to swallow the sense of panic that threatens to consume him, and smiles. 

"I'm fine."  


𓇼•𓇼•𓇼

  
Malcolm spends most of the time at the crime scene trying to figure out how someone could have uncovered Alisha Lee's secret. He also tries to sort through his memories of Gathering's past, if he had met the victim before. Her name rings some sort of bell, but nothing solid enough to place.

Malcolm offers the occasional comment to Gil and the others, knowing that he is already acting unusual. He needs to keep up some sort of appearance, and hopefully the fact that he got sick will give him a pass for the rest of the day. 

Malcolm feels a heavy hand fall on the back of his neck and suddenly muscles he didn't know he was tensing immediately release. 

"Do you want me to drop you off at the loft on the way back to the precinct?" Malcolm looks over, slightly surprised. 

Gil sighs. "Kid, something is up with you today. Just… let me take you home. Go get some rest, then you can come back tomorrow." Gil's voice is kind, concerned. It warms Malcolm as much as the comforting hand on the back of his neck. 

Malcolm offers Gil a small smile. "Thank you. Are you ready to leave?"

"Let's go." Gil's hand drops to Malcolm's elbow, gently guiding him through the victim's house and out onto the street. 

Gil steps away once they get to the Le Mans, opening the door for Malcolm to slide into the passenger seat, shutting the door soft behind him. Walking around to the driver's side, Gil slides behind the wheel. 

Gil doesn't immediately start the car, thumbing the rabbit's foot keychain as he holds it on his lap. Gil doesn't look at him while he collects his thoughts. 

"If you ever want to talk, Malcolm, I'm here for you. It's unlike you to get so shaken up at a crime scene. You’ve got me worried." Now he finally looks at Malcolm, and the concern is written plain across his face. 

"I'm sorry I worried you, Gil. Thank you for looking out for me." 

Gil's face softens. "I only want you to be alright." 

They make the drive back to Malcolm's loft in companionable silence. Gil hums under his breath to a song playing on the radio, Malcolm is lost in his thoughts during the drive.

When Gil drops Malcolm off at his loft it comes with a promise to pick Malcolm up in the morning, and then he is off. The black Le Mans drives off in the direction of the precinct. 

Where Malcolm should be, helping to solve the crime of his fellow selkie's murder. 

Malcolm walks up the stairs in a daze, unlocks his loft and enters without a thought. He toes off his shoes at the entrance and gives Sunshine a half-hearted greeting. 

There is only one thing Malcolm wants to do after a day like today. 

His feet steer him towards the end of his bed, and Malcolm gently lowers himself to his knees in front of the chest at the end of it. Malcolm runs his hands over the smooth wood of the chest, feeling anxious. Grasping the combination lock securing the wooden chest closed in one hand Malcolm trails an index finger across the numbers setting the correct combination. 

Malcolm removes the lock and sets it aside, lifting the lid of the wooden chest. 

Gently pushing aside his soft blankets, Malcolm reaches in and finds what he has been seeking. 

Standing up, Malcolm retrieves his pelt from the chest and walks to the side of his bed. 

Malcolm lovingly spreads his most prized possession out on his bed, and admires his other skin. 

He disrobes where he stands, not caring about the pile of clothing he leaves on the ground. 

Malcolm strokes the tips of his fingers down the length of his pelt, the dappled grey fur luxuriously soft to the touch. 

This item, this skin. This is who he is. A whole part of his identity. The thought of losing this part of himself like his mother had, terrifies Malcolm more than anything. Malcolm crawls onto his bed, laying down on the soft fur of his own pelt. After the scene he saw today Malcolm aches to be as close to his pelt as physically possible. 

It has been a few months since Malcolm has even been able to fully slip his pelt on and go for a swim. Ainsley had shown up at his loft and spirited him away for a fun sibling weekend. Malcolm smiles at the memory, rubbing his cheek against the soft fur of his pelt. 

Malcolm had gone even longer when he had worked for the FBI, one time not returning to the water for an entire year. 

The song of the sea had called to him so strongly that year, it was nearly painful. Malcolm cannot imagine how it must be for his mother, now 20 years separated from her pelt. Curling up into a ball against the ache he cannot soothe, Malcolm vows to continue searching for his mother. 

Malcolm falls asleep that way. Curled up tightly on top of his pelt, a million anxieties running through his mind.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the beta my bestie Hannah 😘

Malcolm has his pelt safely stored in the chest at the end of his bed before Gil shows up the next morning, lock firmly in place. 

He's feeling a bit raw after the crime scene yesterday, and even the sleep he gained last night hasn't taken the edge off. Today he has to be better. _He has to be._

Gil knocks on the door as Malcolm is nibbling on another piece of toast. Malcolm shuffles over to let in his oldest friend, socked feet sliding across the smooth floor. 

Gil quirks a smile at Malcolm. "You don't look ready to go yet." Waving a hand at Malcolm who has yet to even button his shirt, let alone add a tie or waistcoat to his ensemble. 

"I poured you a cup of coffee." Malcolm turns back to walk towards the island where two mugs are waiting, a nearly empty French Press sitting nearby. 

Gil perks up. "You know I can't resist an invitation like that." He walks further into the loft, closing the door behind him. He stops to greet Sunshine on the walk to the kitchen, thanking Malcolm when handed the warm mug of coffee. Gil closes his eyes and inhales the fragrant steam before taking a small sip, savouring the dark, rich flavour. 

"I don't know how I'll be able to drink the break room coffee today after this." Gil takes another drink of the dark brew before setting it back down. 

Malcolm continues buttoning up his light blue shirt, giving a soft laugh. "Have I spoiled you? You know you're welcome here anytime, Gil. Standing invite." Malcolm picks his own mug up with a soft smile directed at the other man and drinks deeply, closing his eyes and luxuriating in how the warm coffee heats him from the inside out. 

"You look better." Gil's soft comment interrupts Malcolm's moment, though it doesn't break the tranquility of the morning. 

"I feel better." _That's not entirely true._ "A little at least." 

Malcolm studies Gil for a moment. The other man is sitting atop one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, nursing his coffee. Malcolm's response must have eased some of his worries, because he can see the lines in Gil's face soften slightly. 

It's not complete honesty, but Malcolm cannot tell Gil the entire truth either, as much as it kills him to have to hold this back from the other man. 

While waiting for the grounds to steep before Gil had shown up to the loft Malcolm had made sure to stash The Gathering postcard in one of the kitchen drawers. The last thing Malcolm needs is for Gil to see _that_ and come to his own conclusions about Malcolm's connection to yesterday's victim. 

With any luck Malcolm can piece together a profile today, and keep the victim's true nature from the team. 

And keep his own secret at the same time. 

Malcolm tries not to feel anxious about the entire case hanging over his head. 

Clearing his throat to cover the sudden spike in anxiety, Malcolm decides to broach the case before they leave, "Did you make any progress yesterday after you dropped me off?" Malcolm still feels bad about not being more helpful. Especially for the murder of one of his own kind. Once he was home safe last night he resolved to fight for the victim as hard as he could. 

"Unfortunately not much. Edrisa completed her examination, but we're hoping you'll be able to give us a profile." Gil finishes his coffee and sets it back on the counter. "Speaking of, do you want to finish getting dressed? You're still missing a tie. And whatever fancy vest thing you like to wear." Gil waves a hand in Malcolm's direction. 

Malcolm snorts, but walks off to his dressing area, tossing an explanation over his shoulder as he goes. "It's called a waistcoat. Vests are more informal."

Malcolm can hear Gil grumble, "Yeah, same thing," under his breath and smiles as he opens the door to his closet, pulls out today's waistcoat and slips it on. 

Malcolm pulls out two ties and holds them up for inspection, before showing them to Gil. "Which one?" 

Gil gets up and wanders over to Malcolm to get a closer look, before plucking one of the ties from his hands and slinging it around Malcolm's neck. "This one." Before Malcolm can put the discarded tie back, Gil flips his collar up. 

"I can tie it myself, Gil." He's not whining. _He's not._

Gil doesn't dignify Malcolm's whine with a response, just a quirk of an eyebrow, before he straightens out the tie length to his liking. Gil's capable hands deftly tie Malcolm's tie for him. Malcolm holds as still as he can while Gil flips the wide end of the tie around one last time, pulling it up through the gap, and then through the knot. Gil makes an adjustment, before setting the knot against the hollow of Malcolm's throat, who swallows in response to the feel of Gil's fingers so close to his neck. 

Gil flips Malcolm's collar back down, satisfied with his work, and steps back. 

Malcolm clears his throat, ignoring the heat he can feel, knowing his face is flushed. "Thanks for the help." 

Gil's face is soft, affectionate, as he replies, "Anytime, kid. Now finish up so we can head in." 

Malcolm quickly recovers and finishes buttoning up his waistcoat and slipping on his jacket and shoes. 

Gil is waiting at the door for him, patiently. 

Malcolm bids Sunshine a farewell for the day, and the pair exit the loft to Gil's waiting Le Mans. 

The ride to the precinct is a pleasant one. Gil hums softly along to the radio, much like he did yesterday, much like he does every day. It's a comfort to Malcolm, to be in this car, with its smell of leather, the sound of Gil next to him, the vibration in the car all around him. It's safe. 

They reach the precinct in good time, and once inside Malcolm strides through the halls with a confidence he doesn't truly feel. 

Dani and JT are already waiting for them in the conference room. Malcolm greets them with a smile, not looking towards the evidence board yet. 

The other two detectives share a quick look between them, clearly unsure about his demeanor. 

Maybe he's trying just a little _too_ hard. 

Gil comes into the room a few minutes after Malcolm, a break room coffee in his hand. "Alright, bring us up to speed." As Gil sits down across from Malcolm he is pretty sure the other man said 'us' for Malcolm's benefit, so as to not feel so singled out. He definitely appreciates the gesture, turning towards the other two detectives to give them his attention. 

Dani starts off, catching Malcolm up. "Edrisa completed her autopsy yesterday." She picks up a file in front of her, flipping it upon to peruse the information available. "Alisha Lee, age 37. Edrisa cataloged a number of injuries. She died of exsanguination, from approximately a dozen stab wounds to her torso. But Edrisa found something particularly interesting underneath all of that blood when she finally cleaned the body." Dani slides the file over to Malcolm, a number of pictures paperclipped in. "Whoever killed her left some sort of message. Do these symbols look familiar to you, Bright?" 

Malcolm pulls the file closer, plucking the pictures from their place to hold them up for closer examination. 

"Three symbols? These are runes." _How curious…_

"Do you know what they mean?" Malcolm looks over at Gil who takes a sip of the coffee from his mug, the older man unable to hold back a small grimace at the no doubt burnt taste. 

"I actually do." Malcolm replies to Gil. 

JT stage whispers to Dani, "Big shocker."

Malcolm ignores the comment, knowing JT is just trying to tease. 

Laying the pictures back on the table for everyone to see, Malcolm points to the first one, carved into the victim's thigh. "This one, the line with the hook. Laguz. It means water, or the sea. It can also represent fertility and healing." Malcolm slides the next picture into view, of the victim's abdomen. "The cross hatched M rune is Mannaz. It's a representation of mankind, or the human race."

"And the last one?" Gil takes another sip of his coffee, before ultimately setting the mug aside, finally admitting defeat against the offending brew. 

Malcolm picks up the last picture, with the rune carved over Alisha Lee's heart. 

"The line with two legs, looks like a broom. Algiz is normally a protective rune, but this is reversed." 

"So what does that mean?" Gil takes the picture from Malcolm's lax fingers to get a closer look at the injury.

Malcolm tries to ignore the icy hand of fear clawing up through his chest as he starts to realize the seriousness of Alisha's murder. 

"Taboo."

Malcolm doesn't add anything else, and the room is quiet until JT asks a question. 

"Do you think the killer could be some kind of PETA nut?" 

Malcolm looks over at JT. "What makes you say that?"

"Between this weirdness, and the animal skin nailed to a wall, and the message written in her own blood, seems like someone thought she was a monster?" JT's reasoning isn't bad, given the facts he has available to him. 

But he doesn't have all of the facts. 

None of them do. 

Only Malcolm does. 

_Water, mankind, taboo._

Someone out there has a lot of hatred towards his kind. Malcolm can see it plain as day; Alisha Lee was killed because she was a selkie. It was this killer's entire motivation. 

_How the fuck is he going to build a profile while keeping critical information close to his chest?_

How did this killer find out about Alisha's secret? How did he _find_ her? 

"So, what are we working with? Someone who’s upset that the victim had a, what was it?" Dani pulls the folder towards her, flipping it to get a better look at the information. "An endangered seal fur with her? But why nail a fur rug to the wall?"

Malcolm cannot hold back a grimace at a selkie's most prized possession, their pelt, not only being disgraced in such a way, but being labelled a _fur rug._

"Wait, did you say endangered?" That catches his attention. 

"Yeah. Techs seem to think it belongs to Mediterranean Monk Seal. They aren't even native to this area," Dani helpfully replies. 

Malcolm knows it's not the location that's important, it's the family. That's why her name sounded familiar, she must be a relative of the Benton family. Malcolm's heart aches for them, for their loss that they might not yet know about. 

Selkies don't exactly have a large population, and Malcolm feels the loss of the victim even though he didn't personally know her. 

She was still a member of his community. 

"She could have bought it from a vendor, or it might not have even been hers." Not like the team would even believe the truth, even if Malcolm was able to tell them, so best to toss them some breadcrumbs in another direction. 

Gil nods. "JT see if you can find a market for these kinds of items." 

JT taps the folder in his hand against his palm as he leaves the room. "I'll get on the phone with Fish and Wildlife Services."

"Bright, what else can you tell us about these runes. They must have been important somehow." Gil hands the picture back to Malcolm, who takes it and stares at it once more. 

_Taboo._

There is nothing "taboo" about what he is. 

Malcolm was born this way. So was his sister, and his mom. So were the other families. This is what, and who, they are. 

Malcolm sets the picture down on the table in front of him. "Runes are an early alphabet. There are a few different variations, one being the Elder Futhark version which is one of the oldest. Runes are usually carved into tiles or stone pieces, and used for a similar purpose to tarot cards." Malcolm glances at the slightly confused expressions on Gil and Dani's faces and pauses his explanation. 

"How do you know so much about runes, Bright?" Dani leans her elbows onto the table, scrutinizing Malcolm. "I thought it was just weapons and murder for you."

Runes are important to the selkies, but he can't tell her that. 

Malcolm gives Dani an incredulous expression. "I wouldn't have made it this far in my career if I didn't seek knowledge on a variety of eclectic interests." The profiler hopes his explanation eases her concerns and restart the case moving in a direction it needs to. 

"Ok, so these are used for fortune telling. How does this relate to our murder, Malcolm?" 

Runes aren't really a means of actual fortune telling, but Malcolm could be here for hours trying to explain that to Gil. 

_Water, mankind, taboo._

A message. A warning. 

Malcolm looks to Gil, and leads him astray. 

"I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! The runes I used look like this - 
> 
> Laguz - ᛚ   
> Mannaz - ᛗ   
> Algiz - ᛉ ( except upside down)


End file.
